Taexalia

wild.life

Chair

Fashionista

This isn't the picture of a person in a chair that I want to use in this post but I'm not even sure if I have a picture other than in my memory. Since @ is already with Sandman it's not a good time to start hauling our stash of as-yet-unpacked-boxes out of the walk-in cupboard to empty boxes of photos all over the floor to find out... So this is the only picture of a chair that I have for the moment (I *have* to include a picture or my beautiful template created by the beautiful blogmum will put another mushroom on the front page because I am writing so infrequently at the moment...)

The chair I am thinking of is huge and it lives in the corner of the sitting room at Belt Croft. It lives there because that is where I remember it living. It is as alive in my memory as it was the last time that I scrambled up for a bosie with my Granda. They don't make chairs like this chair anymore. I'm not even sure what it was made of, although I know that the equally monstrous bed-settee that also lived in that room was horsehair and leather under the cushions and clutter.

The word that springs to mind about Granda's Chair is sturdy. Just like Granda.

It was his haven, his place to return when he came in from ploughing a field, scything hay or howkin neeps. It was where he had forty winks after a fly cup and where he clenched his fists and roared at the black and white telly as Big Daddy and Giant Haystacks rolled around the ring in homemade leotards.

Granda's big armchair was close enough to the fire for him to sit forward and grab the poker and tend the coals. In the evenings he would pull out the stool that sat by the wall and put his feet up, t just the right distance from the fire so they were neither too hot nor too cold. I remember his feet flexing in grey wool socks that Grandma knitted and later darned. Good thick socks to fill the spaces atween the feet and the waldie beets. Socks that started the day roasting in the hot plate - curious cupboards at the side of the fire that I was never allowed to touch.

Granda's cap would hang on the door knob - the door led to the hot tank and opening it invloved a fair bit of shooglin of the chair. The chair sat right next to the chunky wooden dining table and the arm of the chair became Granda's dining chair at meal times.

He didnae hae tae gan far fer a feed ken.

It wasn't a shapely or stylish chair and I remember some sort of stretchy green polyester cover with elasticated edging and little flower patterns that was supposed to protect the chair but the elastic didn't stretch all the way to the bottom. Yet thinking about that chair what I would give to have it in my sitting room, but without Granda's lap and bosie I don't think it wid be thi same. Ken?

In response to this week's topic at Inspire Me Thursday.

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Posted on September 4, 2009 in Ponderings.

2 Responses to “Chair”

  1. Gemma says:
    September 4, 2009 at 10:56 pm

    Love how you said that the chair is sturdy just like your Granda! You have some wonderful memories all via a chair! Beautiful post!
    Gemma´s last blog ..Invitation to Relax in Yesteryear My ComLuv Profile

  2. Sue says:
    September 6, 2009 at 2:57 pm

    If you want, I think we could fix it so you could have a choice of default pictures, not just the mushroom. ;-) Have a think what else you’d like. I feel bad if you’re compelled to include pix you don’t want, though that chair piccie is a good one: is it Robert Wadlow?
    Sue´s last blog ..[Video] How to upgrade WordPress My ComLuv Profile

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